


Tonight, I Am The Drug You Can't Deny

by zams



Series: Conversations Series [3]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glee RPF, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Crossover, Humor, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zams/pseuds/zams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to <a href="http://zams.livejournal.com/77123.html">More Conversations With Adam</a>. Tommy's first date with Chris doesn't go quite the way he expected, but he's not complaining.</p><p><em>Tommy feels like a fucking fifteen-year-old boy getting ready for his first date. It's ridiculous. He's goddamn twenty-nine years old and therefore too old for this shit.</em></p><p><em>"We both know you can't pick out your own clothes," Adam says, voice sounding insufferably smug even through the phone. "We want Chris to like you, not run away in terror from your terrible fashion sense."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight, I Am The Drug You Can't Deny

**Author's Note:**

> Third in the " **Conversations Series**." Thank you to Taylor for beta'ing! Title from _The Church of Hot Addiction_ by Cobra Starship.

\---

Tommy feels like a fucking fifteen-year-old boy getting ready for his first date. It's ridiculous. He's goddamn twenty-nine years old and therefore too old for this shit.

"Tommy! Are you listening to me?"

Tommy glares at his phone, willing Adam to feel it through the airwaves. "Shut the hell up and let me think."

He goes back to studying his open closet, trying to decide on something to wear for his date. Leather? Does that send the wrong message? Maybe just a tee-shirt. But is that too casual? He doesn't want to try too hard, but he doesn't want to look grungy either.

"We both know you can't pick out your own clothes," Adam says, voice sounding insufferably smug even through the phone. "We want Chris to like you, not run away in terror from your terrible fashion sense."

"Hardy-fucking-har," Tommy says. "What do _you_ suggest, oh Master-of-the-Flamboyant?"

"A pair of low-rise Chucks, those leather pants you practically live in that look poured on, a tight, short sleeve, red tee-shirt, your normal necklaces, styled hair, and go easy on the black eye shadow."

Tommy gives his phone an unimpressed look. "Thought about this, have you?"

"Of course." Adam sounds vaguely offended. "It's not like I could let you go out in a pair of ratty jeans and a worn Metallica tee-shirt like you no doubt were going to do. I have to save you from yourself."

Tommy'd be offended, but he has to admit Adam's close to what Tommy was privately leaning toward anyway. Telling Adam that would be a mistake though, so he just pulls the pair of leather pants and a red tee-shirt out of his closet and says, "Anything else, wise-one?"

There's silence as Adam thinks about this. "Yeah. Don't forget to pull the stick out of your ass before Chris comes. I know you're a size queen, but you don't want to give him a complex."

"Where do you even come up with this shit?"

Tommy hangs up before Adam can answer.

\---

Tommy takes Chris out for coffee. A little typical, maybe, but this is the first time they've actually met in person, so Tommy figures it's as good a place to start as any.

Chris orders some complex drink, a half-caf, skinny chai latte or something, while Tommy settles for a black coffee with a little sugar. When they sit down, Tommy can't think of anything to say.

Chris doesn't say anything, either, just stares down at his coffee, fingers tapping against the cup.

They've been texting for a couple weeks and conversation certainly wasn't lacking then, but this is different. What the fuck is he supposed to say?

And Chris is distracting, too. He looks hot. So fucking hot in his baby-blue button up and dark, tight jeans, that all Tommy wants to do is pitch the coffee and drag Chris back to his apartment and fuck his brains out, messing up that perfectly styled hair.

He's horny. Sue him. It's been weeks since he's been laid and it's not like he's going to do it. Unless Chris' down with that, of course.

In his sly studying of Chris (and holy fuck, Chris has fucking _perfect_ skin), Tommy notices that Chris is doing the same to him, watching him out of the corner of his eye and trying to not be obvious about it.

Tommy tries not to smirk, feeling pleased and suddenly confident from Chris' appreciation. "Like what you see?" he asks, smiling when Chris starts and his eyes guiltily snap up to Tommy's face.

The faintest of blushes rises in his cheeks. "Um," he says, clearly embarrassed at being caught.

"It's okay," Tommy says, lounging back in the uncomfortable chair. "You can you look all you want. I'm sure the view is spectacular." He pauses, and then softly says, "I know it is from where I'm sitting."

More blood rushes to Chris' face, and fuck that's a beautiful sight. Chris really is gorgeous.

"It is," Chris says, eyes flicking up and down Tommy's body. His arms reach out, and Tommy leans closer to him. Chris' fingers curl around his forearms, warm and solid. "I love your tattoos." He traces over the lines and curves of the tattoos, the light, almost reverent touch making Tommy shiver even as his groin tightens.

Chris doesn't say anything for a moment, seemingly fixated on Tommy's tattoos. The intense, focused attention makes Tommy hot under the collar. One of his biggest turn-ons is someone appreciating his body art.

Chris floors him with his next words. "I wonder how they taste," he says, the words soft, but with a hint of insinuation lacing them that goes right to Tommy's horny dick.

And holy fuck, did it just get hot in here. Chris' eyes meet Tommy's and there's no mistaking the heat in them. It's a little jarring, because just five minutes ago he and Chris were sitting here in uncomfortable silence, subtly checking each other out, and now Chris is practically eye-fucking him.

Not that Tommy has any problem with that; it's really, really hot. He was going to take Chris to the beach, walk up and down the boardwalk, maybe pop into an arcade or ice cream shop, but he's perfectly fine with scrapping that plan and getting to know Chris in bed instead.

Chris licks his lips, his fingers still caressing Tommy's arms.

Tommy's _really_ okay with it.

"You wanna get outta here?" he asks, pitching his voice low and husky so there's no mistaking his intent.

Chris' eyes widen just a bit at Tommy's blunt question and he swallows, Adam's apple moving. He recovers quickly and nods. "Yeah," he says.

The eagerness he's trying to hide is a huge fucking turn-on, too.

Tommy doesn't waste any time in dragging him out of the coffee shop.

\---

As soon as Tommy gets the door shut, Chris is all over him, lips hot and demanding over his, hands running over Tommy's body. Tommy's not idle himself, returning Chris' kiss with a passion that surprises even him as he maneuvers them toward his bedroom. He fumbles with the doorknob, but he's able to get a hold of it and wrenches it open, pulling Chris inside.

It's not until then that their lips finally part, Tommy's heart pounding and his hard cock straining uncomfortably against the tight leather. Chris is staring at him, his face flushed and his lips red and begging to be kissed.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Tommy says, unable to resist reaching out and tangling his fingers in Chris' hair and crushing their lips together again.

Chris gives as good as he gets, practically climbing on Tommy, and pressing so close not even air is between them. Tommy takes a step backward and his calves bump against his bed, and he looses his balance, falling back. Chris goes down with him, unconcerned at the abrupt change in orientation, his lips still devouring Tommy's as he wraps his arms around Tommy, his legs on either side of him. The new position pushes their groins together and it draws a low groan from both of them.

Chris rips his lips away and attaches them to Tommy's neck, sucking for all he's worth and wildly rocking his hips.

Tommy can't hold in a moan, his own hips rolling into Chris', and he grabs Chris' ass, squeezing and shamelessly groping him. It feels good, fuck it feels _good_ , but Tommy needs more.

"Chris," he gasps out. "Clothes. Off."

It takes a second, but Chris straightens, sitting on Tommy's stomach, panting. Tommy can feel his neck faintly throbbing, and he'll definitely have a hickey there tomorrow. He doesn't care. It's fucking hot. He's got plenty of concealer, anyway.

Chris looks down at him, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, already looking debauched and wanton, and then he's grabbing the hem of Tommy's shirt and tugging it up and off. The cool air in the room makes goosebumps rise on Tommy's stomach.

Chris pulls off his own shirt, and then goes to work on his jeans, Tommy following suit. Tommy's desperate to get Chris naked, to feel his skin and get a look at the hard cock that's been tempting him.

His eyes nearly roll back into his head when their dicks touch for the first time, hot skin against hot skin. Chris immediately starts moving, and Tommy can barely look at him. Chris is too sexy like that, naked and rocking over Tommy, eyes closed and little gasps and murmurs rolling off his lips as he works himself closer to orgasm.

Instead, Tommy has to close his eyes, his fingers finding and digging into the tender flesh of Chris' hips, and just focuses on the sensations, the feeling of Chris' cock rubbing over and against his.

"Tommy," Chris says, and it's the sexiest plea Tommy's ever heard.

"Yeah," Tommy encourages, thrusting his hips up and earning him a gasp from Chris. "C'mon. Just a little more."

The friction burn is just on the right side of painful, and it only takes a few minutes to get Tommy right on the edge. He'd be embarrassed, but Chris is in the same situation, and that's just hot any way Tommy looks at it. The pleasure builds and builds, intense and sharp, and suddenly, it's too much and Tommy's coming all over both of them.

Chris' movements falter, and just a few moments after Tommy, he's coming too, whispering _Tommy_ as he releases. Their come mixes together, covering their cocks in delicious warmth, and if Tommy could, he'd come again just from the sinful feeling.

Chris falls forward onto Tommy's chest, boneless, and Tommy somehow finds the strength to bring his arms up and wrap them around Chris, one hand settling over the curve of his ass as Tommy holds him close. Chris' head turns and his lips find Tommy's, and they kiss as they recover, pressed together from head to toe and come cooling between them.

Tommy's sleepy and sticky, and he really should clean them up, but he doesn't want to move. Kissing Chris is more important, and he's perfectly content right where he is. Clean up is overrated.

\---

Tommy's cell phone vibrating wakes him up in the morning. He's lying on his back, Chris curled up to his side.

It's nice. Really nice.

His phone vibrates again, and Tommy drops an arm down over the side of the bed, blindly searching for his phone. He grabs it, and then turns on his side, draping a leg over Chris'. Chris murmurs, shifting a bit, but then settles down, his breathing still slow and even.

Tommy just looks at him for a while, taking in every detail of his face.

 _Fuck_ , Tommy wonders. He traces the curve of Chris' cheek, barely touching his eyelashes. _When did I turn into such a fucking sap?_

He finds he doesn't really care. After their first short round, they napped for a little while and woke up horny and ready for round two. Round two turned into a long round three before they were satisfied. Then barely able to keep their eyes open, they pulled the sheets over their tired bodies and went to sleep with their arms around each other.

All in all, a very successful first date. He's comfortable, relaxed, and his ass has that nice 'just fucked' soreness. Nothing's going to ruin his good mood.

Well, maybe his damn phone will.

It vibrates for a third time, and Tommy turns his attention to it with a huff. He unlocks it, and really. He shouldn't be surprised that he has _nine_ fucking texts from Adam.

And here Tommy naively thought his morning after fucking hot, marathon sex with Chris would be peaceful.

These should be good, though. Adam's usually entertaining. Well, when he's not pissing Tommy the fuck off, that is. Which is actually most of the time. Adam just knows how to push his buttons.

Four of them were sent within half an hour. Overkill, much?

 _Tommy! What's going on? Are you still out with Chris?_

 _Chris is hot, isn’t he? Is he talking about me?_

 _C'mon, Tommy! Where are you? Why aren't you texting me?_

 _Fucking text me back. I don't like being ignored. Darren says I should leave you alone but I need to know how badly you fucked up the date so far._

Tommy snorts, rolling his eyes. Typical Adam. He moves on to the fifth one, noticing it was sent over an hour after the fourth one.

 _Fucking Darren. Distracting me by jacking off in one of my shirts and begging me to fuck him. Fucking shameless. He's going to get it later. Oh yeah. I might have to tie him up._

Tommy makes a face. He really doesn't need to know about the kinky shit Adam and Darren get up to in bed. He already knows more than he wants to.

 _But since it's two in the morning and you haven't called me crying because you scared Chris off, I'd say your date was a success. All thanks to me, of course. Just call me Gay Cupid._

Reading this, Tommy makes a mental note to deflate Adam's ego some the next time he sees him. It can't be healthy to be that self-important.

 _Well, well, well._ It's amazing how smug Adam can sound in a fucking text. _Looks like somebody got lucky last night. Darren says Chris hasn't called or texted him. Couldn't keep your hands to yourself, could you?_

 _Not that I blame you. Chris is fucking hot. Let me know how he looks in your bed, you fucking hypocrite._

 _Call me later, asshole. And don't spare any details._

Tommy isn't sure if he should be offended, or pissed, or amused.

Eh. Fuck it. It's too early in the morning for Adam. He clicks off his phone, dropping it on the bed, and pulls Chris closer to him and closes his eyes. He smiles when Chris scoots closer.

Chris is warm and soft and smells so good, and a couple more hours of sleep sound amazing. He'll deal with Adam later; he can wait.

\---

Sequel: [Best Party Ever, Whoo!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/214705)


End file.
